Blood On The Moon (A Tribute To Selma) - Poem by THEODORE MOSLEY
BLOOD ON THE MOON (A TRIBUTE TO SELMA)
Holding onto the night, we hear the cries of sacred eyes being tormented with days of hate.
The fear of letting go to pursue the dreams of the creation has our mind asphyxiated.
Sent to demon possessed patriots, our afflictions are created within the cells of their beliefs.
The blood on the moon carries the night towards revelations of unseen history to be unfolded.
Your serenity of life has become the steps of lawlessness for the whips to hold your breath.
Reaching for the stars only to find the ocean floor as your haven to produce unfruitful lives.
Dethroned from my kingship my queen is left to abstain the nights of love within her memory.
The blood on the moon is unapologetic with the eyes of deceit directing our pain for mentorship.
The alliance of death has spoken to my flesh to cradle me with the blood of my ancestor's tears.
Looking for history to propel me to freedom, we encounter the history of graves appointed for us.
Truth has become swords of injustice that has penetrated my thinking for my generation to capture.
The blood on the moon has transformed the sensation of a eucalyptus into suites of death.
Cries of solidarity have become the office of movements but the doors of democracy are held in silence.
Death and the grave are my partners in justice; where is my life that was created for living.
Concentration camps of lies shifted me towards unspeakable decisions to clarify my being.
The blood on the moon has unseated my declaration of independence for sheets of graves.
Gaining the unheralded ride to freedom, my eyes are claiming your education for prosperity.
Showing the conduit of my mind, we reach the foreground of heights of your derailments.
Sifting through the meaning of life, we transcend the formula of your crimes with the passions of life.
The blood on the moon shows the inequalities of your thinking only to expose you in your thinking.
Our freedom came from the canal of our birth; my journey has lasted four hundred years in time.
Populated in the fields of success, we astounded beyond the walks of your planks for destruction.
Ascending without hesitation, we confiscated life with educated eyes and gifted hands of measures.
We are Selma, Selma reminded us, Selma shaped us, Selma created us and Selma died for us.
The blood on the moon has the tears of nights that went throughout the nation to be heard.
Written by Theodore Mosley
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